Poison Apple
by Insane-nity
Summary: After a world conference meeting gone wrong, Italy finds himself trapped in a world where there is no true happily ever after. And the only way out, is for true loves kiss. Only question: who is his true love?  fail summary,better one inside
1. Chapter 1

**Poison Apple-Prologue **

**Rating: T ( Some violence, minor swearing, mild yaoi, and character death**

**Stories (in no order) : Rumpelstiltskin, Hansel and Gretel, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and Cinderella **

**Summary: After a terrible world meeting, Italy finds himself signing a contract that a familiar, but foreign, person brought to him; then takes a bite out of an apple! Now Italy is locked in a world where most all of the fairy tale stories are mished-mashed together, and the only way out is a true loves kiss. The only question: Who is his true love? (**Better summary later**)**

**-**/-\\-

Prologue

_Everything was quiet._

_A still, airless, haunting silence that seemed to loom over a person, a place, a thing; casting a shadow of uncertainty in ones soul._

_A movement here._

_A movement there._

_The puzzlement of it all was mounting, a peak of desperation until you start to run._

_Faster, and faster, and faster, and faster._

_The wheels in your mind start to turn. Rotate, trying to make sense of things. A sudden thing registers. Click._

_Its then you realize that you are not alone._

_Not safe._

_That someone was following you, watching you, waiting for you. You may scream, trip or fall. And it all seems like the world is going to come crashing down on you._

_Get home. Bolt the door. Say a prayer. Be wrapped in the blanket of noise. Of home. Of comfort._

_Yes._

_Everything was indeed quiet._

_But slowly, emerging from the penetrable silence came forth a small noise. The fingers of the cold uncertainty curl into a fist, squeezing its victim._

_For what is worse than silence than noise?_

_Clack click clack click._

_Footsteps._

_The footsteps of a sullen man. Of a man tired, and angry, and worn. Of a man drenched in a cloak of sorrow._

_However, he is no longer a man._

_He is a monster._

_The once emotion filled eyes turned stone cold. His thoughts occupied with death and destruction. His heart was no longer brimmed with love, but of hate. He was a betrayed monster, a lonely monster, a sickened monster._

_The footsteps stopped. This monster, this man stood very still. He leaned to the side, his left shoulder pressing against the stone building. He raised a bloody hand and traced the dyed red fingers along the musty black hat. A small smile creased the corners of his mouth; a short curt laugh broke free. He grabbed the hat, throwing it down to the ground, letting out a twisted snarl. Even though the moon light was dim, creating a ghastly blue glow, the colour of blonde hair could be easily seen. He let out rigid breaths._

_"Dammit," a weak German accent hanged like a dead limb on his voice._

_"How could you do this to me?"_

_He opened his black coat, gripping one side as his other hand snatched a tiny push broom. A push broom made for a child. Its wooden surface was gleaming, mocking him of happier times. He shoved the memories aside. She did not care for him, not anymore. Gritting his teeth, he raised a foot and sent it flying down, breaking the object with a loud snap. "You will pay," He growled, throwing his head back._

_"You. Will. Pay."_

_With that, he turned on his heels. Walking away with the feeling of emptiness like a void._

_And the fist un-clenched._

_And the silence returned._

**A/N- **Akshfdhfjhgjfhg, first. fanfic. EVER. I just feel so special like like I accomplished something totally amazing. But it's sooo short...ah who cares -watches someone raise their hand up- Anyways, sorry about how I write. So dramatic eh? -shot- Nah, but prologues are prologues, boring. Makes me feel all sad. -cough- But, try not to be too tough on the reviews (first fanfic, you just gotta love newbies) But they are my babies so, review (-3-) Also, this is not a "short story for each story type of thing" I'm blending in all of the stories so it's one WHOLE story (make sense?) Not really sure if this has been done before either -shuffles in the corner nervously-


	2. Chapter 2

**Poison Apple-Chapter 1**

**Rating: T ( Some violence, minor swearing, mild yaoi, and character death**

**Insane-nity does not own Hetalia (**forgot to put that in the Prologue**)**

**-**/-\\-

Chapter 1.

_"I love you."_

_"Please, you can't leave me."_

_"I won't leave, not in your mind, not in your heart. Remember me my love, remember and wait."_

_"No!" Small hands tried to grasp the other voice. It was trying to pull it against its body, to keep it from leaving. The strings of thin air ran like water through the fingers. It felt so desolated, so empty. There was a sudden choked cry. "Don't leave, please." _

_A small and desperate laugh erupted, causing the hands to flinch back. _

_"I have to leave."_

_Then the taste of autumn and sadness spread onto the hand, working its way up to the lips. _

_"Goodbye," It murmured, the voice fading, carried away by the wind._

_"G-Goodbye."_

Italy squinted, awoken from a confusing dream by the soft light that fluttered in from the window. He placed hand on his forehead, groaning slightly, before rolling over. He was still heavy with sleep, estimating it was at least ten. _Dammit why so early?_

Breathing in the detergent-wurst smelling pillows, Italy grabbed the blanket and lifted it over his head. Already he could feel the dream slipping from him, leaving him with one of those I-think moments. Besides, it was normal for him to have those types of dreams, and he figured it was best to push them in the back of his mind. There was no use trying to remember,Germany had once thought he needed to use the restroom whenItaly's face turned red with concentration and his cheeks puffed up.

Letting out a sigh,Italyforced himself to sit up and stretch, yawning loudly in the process. His eyes wandered around the familiar room, landing on the alarm clock that he never bothered to set to wake him up.

11:00

Arching an eyebrow, he leaned in closer, making sure it was not his eyesight going bad.

11:00

_Not my record of a time_, he thought, rubbing the back of his neck. _But, this is really a first; Germany hasn't woken me up yet_. Biting his lower lip,Italy jumped out of bed. He quickly ran out of the room, down the stairs, made a right and entered the kitchen saying loudly, "Germany,Germany, I was waiting for you to wake me up but you never did so I got really worried and then-"

He paused.

"Germany?"

The kitchen was deserted. Only the ticking of a wooden clock filled in the space. Even still, that did not keepItalyfrom panicking. He began opening cupboards and closets, looking franticly for his German friend. His bare feet pattered against the wood floor as he skidded around the house then back into the kitchen yelling, "GERMANY!" His breathing began to start quicken and a whimper bubbled in his throat.

Suddenly, a yellow sticky note on the fridge caught his his way over, double-checking along the way just to make sure he searched enough and did not miss his friend on accident. He lifted a tan hand and pulled the note off the refrigerator, running his other hand through his auburn hair.

"Dear Italy," He mumbled reading it aloud, "I left a little bit earlier than usual. I had some business I needed to attend to, if you are reading this and it is past eleven, you will have to run an extra ten laps next training session. Get dressed, eat, and mein gott, try not to be ." A smile spread acrossItaly's face as he jumped up and down excitedly.

"Ve~ He's okay, I was getting really worried."

The happiness only lasted for a second. No, even less. He briskly looked at the clock, half hoping it was ten or ten thirty.

11:10

Shuddering at the thought of doing ten extra laps, he bolted out the kitchen, up the stairs, and slammed into the door leading into the guestroom.

Italywasn't the neatest person, andGermanyhad no intention of picking upItaly's dirty clothes that would most likely be sprawled on the floor. Therefore, the German told him to dump his clothes and personal belongs in the spare room so it wasItaly's responsibility to keep things organized.

Like that was going to happen.

Italy took a few paces back, rubbing his temple and letting out an "Ow!" Shaking his head, he opened the door and ran to the dresser. There were already clothes from previous nights that he forgot to pick up for laundry that week, but he did not bother rummaging through those. It was too much of a hassle for such a short about of time. He began hastily searching for something to wear. Occasionally he threw a shirt or pants over his shoulder. It did not matter to him what Germany would say about the mess later, he just needed to be there at the meeting.

He finally picked up a stripped peach, white, and orange shirt with beige pants and a red bowtie. Taking off his faded pink tank top, he slide on the shirt, doing the same with the pants. He fingers fumbled with the bowtie, dancing to a beat that a lunatic would then slipped his feet into his brown boots, stumbling as he tried to remember how to tie his shoes.

_You tie a knot. Make a loop. And then…and then._ He gave up, nodding his head at the idea of getting Germany or his brother, Romano, to do it. It scared him if France or Russia offers to tie his lace; usually a rape face was glued to them and they would chuckle an "Oh hon hon hon," or a "KolKolKol." So Italy never dared to ask.

Dashing back down stairs and back into the kitchen (nearly tripping mind you), he opened the fridge wide. His stomach grumbled as if desperate to gulp down any food as Italy looked hungrily around for pasta. Just…not England's food. Anything but England's food.

Pushing his hand far back, his fingers felt the circular top of a container. Grabbing it with an excited ve~! He yanked the top off and reached for a fork in the sink.

Please let it be clean.

Twirling the noodles up and popping the mass in his mouth, he let out a content sigh before shoving the rest down. It pained Italy to have to rush, but he knew he could make pasta any day and every day, and he really did not want to run any more than he should. Besides, if he could not make it through three, how could Germany expect him to do thirteen?

He set the container and fork on the table, humming a merry tune. The pasta had made him feel a little better, actually, a lot better. He grabbed his car keys that hanged lazily next to the doorway and skipped out of the house.

The sun beamed down and a light breeze breathed on the back of Italy's neck as he jogged down the steps that lead to the porch. He unlocked his car doors and hopped in, starting the engine. It came to life with a soft purr sound that made him slightly giggle. Then pulling out of the driveway, he made his way over to where the World meeting was being held.

* * *

><p>Something is off.<p>

Very off.

Very…odd.

Italy cocked his head as he got out of the car, doing a 360 degree angle check with a dumbstruck expression on his face. He had just pulled into the parking lot, expecting it to be full. Well, it was sure as hell not full. Only two cars sat side by side. As if lonely in a vast sea that would later be filled with more fish.

Italy had immediately recognized Germany's car. However, the other one baffled him. Nevertheless, upon going around reading the license, it was obvious it wasAmericas.

Hero#1.

Italy scratched his head, looking back and forth between the two cars. "Now why would Mr. America be here with Germany? Ve~ doesn't matter!" He thought aloud, the only actual think besides cooking and surrendering leaving his mind as soon as he spoke. He outstretched his arms and bounded up to the oak doors. Seizing the golden knob, he twisted it, a loud click rang out, and the door creaked open. Ignoring the bad vibes that seem to waft out of the place, he skipped through the halls reciting the door number in a singsong voice.

"1-0-3, 103, 1-0-3…"

The door 99 past by.

Then 100.

Italystopped skipping. Something, somewhere in the back of his mind told him to turn back. To not continue.

101.

Italy's palms began to feel clammy, and instead of a loose natural smile, it became forced, unpleasant.

102.

Italy's voice became a hushed whisper.

103.

He stared at the large polished cedar door as if under a spell. He heard some sort of laugh, a murmur. _It's, it's probably just some other person in the building_, he thought to himself, relaxing, _or it is just America pulling a prank ve~ I hope I am not caught up in it; then Germany would have to save me!_

Mustering up some ounce of courage, he closed his eyes, drew in a breath, and opened the door exclaiming loudly, "Ve! Germany the strangest thing happened. You see I woke up, you were not there, and so I got really scared! But then I read your note and I don't want to run ten more laps ve~ that's too much work and…" He paused, his amber eyes widening. He stood there; hand still placed on the doorknob, one foot into the room the other out. It seemed like forever, as if time was slapping him in the face repeatedly. His fingers slipped from the cold metal surface, falling limp at his side.

_This is not real._

_This is all a dream!_

_A stupid, stupid dream. Soon I'll be awake and Germany would be by my side. I would tell him to save me from the big bad scary dream and he would kiss me on the forehead and and….._

But it was not a dream. It dawned upon Italy that this was suddenly real, too real.

America and Germany interlocked in a French kiss. Germany's hands placed on the Americans hips while the other country parted their lips and started nibbling his partner's ear. A soft moan escaped from the German.

It made Italy sick.

I had some business.

Business all right.

It wasn't till Germany's rolled back eyes came to sense and did a brief sweep of the room did he see the Italian. His eyes widened and he quickly shovedAmericaback. No words were able to stared atGermany, andGermanyjust stared back.

"Yo dude, what was that about? No one pulls away from the hero unless-"America furrowed his brows, following Germany's gaze till he too stared at Italy. "Oh, hey bro," He laughed, wrapping an arm around Germanys shoulder making the German blush.

Italy did not know what to do.

What to say.

It was all happening so fast yet so slow.

What_ should_ he do….

**A/N- **First chapter done Whoot! Just wanted to say that I was surprised to get an alert, a review, and a favorite so far. Personally, I think it's going a bit too fast, but I really just need to get the opening conflict done so I can move on into the actual story. Also, I don't think I'm keeping Italy in character very good. I mean, it's my first time doing a very clueless character, and with so much drama, it's hard to pin-point how his actual reaction would be. Ah~oh well, it might get easier later on.

I almost cried during language arts. We were doing a deep discussion about the Holocaust, and my teacher passed us photos. Shoes, the trains, the death camps, the Jews. It felt like my heart was about to bust in a million pieces. But on the bright side, my Social Studies teacher started saying how England "loves" America. I had to keep myself from laughing and having perverted thoughts. Ah well, hope you enjoyed~


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